


enthropy

by AslansCompass



Category: Sapphire and Steel
Genre: Big Finish Audios, Gen, cruel immortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-06 09:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18386057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AslansCompass/pseuds/AslansCompass
Summary: But thy strong Hours indignant work'd their wills,And beat me down and marr'd and wasted me,And tho' they could not end me, left me maim'd--"Tithonus" by Lord TennysonSapphire's time in the care home left her scarred, inside and out. Hurt/comfort for the Big Finish audio "Cruel Immortality"





	1. Named

"It's over, Sapphire. I'm here now."

Yes, now. It's over  _now._ But that doesn't change the past. It doesn't obliterate the endless nights, the pain and rage and emptiness. She stumbles into his arms. It doesn't matter that she's the wrong shape, shriveled and misshapen limbs, crusted scars and infected wounds. This is  _Steel,_ her anchor, her partner, and he knows her completely, no matter what shape she wears.

Steel, she kythes. Steel. 

She can't say anything more. Just knowing he's there, being with him, hearing his voice--the worst is over. She's not alone anymore.

It's not his fault. It really isn't.

He left her.

They disagreed, that's all.

Ruby. How could they leave Ruby?  They'd been unmade before. How could they abandon anyone to the same fate?

"Sapphire." Her name. For the first time in over four hundred years-- _four hundred thirteen_ \-- someone knew her name.  

He'd left her.

Steel. 

The words are coming back now. Like a matching game, faded images with his sharp-edged words. Transients.  Trap. Trigger point. 

 

>  I run. I run till I couldn't run any more, even if I wanted to. They can't hear me. No one can hear me. No one's here to rescue me, not even you. 

She'd never thought he would leave. 

She still couldn't believe it. That --thing--what she had been, what she was shedding even now, like a snake losing his skin, like a hermit crab seeking a new shell--that wasn't her. That wasn't _Sapphire_.

But it had been. It was. 

Only instinct.

An instinct for what? To survive? To suffer? To hate?

But it's hard, after all these centuries, hard to think, to plan, to process.  She presses closer to Steel.  Steel knows. 

Steel's _here._

 

 


	2. hands that are holding you

Steel takes her hand. We're done here. Time to leave.

Not the main hall, please. 

He tilts his head in acknowledgement.  Hold on.

She could return on her own, of course. But just now, Sapphire doesn't want to let go, even for a heartbeat. She presses closer, discarding her tattered shields so he can control their teleportation. 

They materialize in one of the small, slightly shabby incarnatoriums on the fringes of the base. The limited dimensions inside are empty; no novices or new graduates practicing physical manifestations. It reminds her of a theatrical stage,  halfway between disparate productions.  _Steel, raise barriers._

She could do it herself; faster, easier, better than Steel. But the rooms are meant to be used by all levels, Operatives and Specialists and Investigators alike; it takes no more than a gesture to prep the area. And at this point--

The wards snap into place. The low-level hum of operations dies instantly; it's just the two of them.  

She re-opens the kythe. There's no need to hold back now.  

 

> (may 7, 1949 (#1))
> 
> She explores every inch of the care home, running her fingers over every mildewed magazine, every generic painting, every chipped cup, every faded blanket.  No anomalies, no trigger points. If only she could find something, anything, any rip in the fabric of time....
> 
>  
> 
>  (??winter?? 1949??) _beastie_
> 
> cold, ice, limbs thick, slow. 
> 
> bright light, warm, many small fires. noise. screams. sharp. pain.
> 
> cold. ice. safe. numb, safe.
> 
> warm. fires. pain.  skin burning burning burning down to bone.
> 
>  
> 
> (january 5, 1949  (#192))  _Mrs P._
> 
> She doesn't belong here. She's told them over and over again, she doesn't belong here. Just because she's getting a little older, a little slower, doesn't mean she needs to wrapped in cotton wool and watched every second of the day. If only her Ted was here, he'd tell them. He'd tell them.  Oh, where was he? Why hadn't he come for her?
> 
>  
> 
> (april 19 (#45),  november 6 (#56), may 24 (#89), august 1 (#129),  march 9 (#178), june 16(#201 ), september 11 (#222)  _on and on andonallthedays,twiceover. 150,745 days as mrs. p,as a slowly decaying human; three million, six hundred seventeen thousand, eight hundred eighty hours as the beast, a senseless animal._
> 
>  

Steel flinches, but doesn't let go. 

He knows now what she suffered--was there for it, relived it--and there is nothing he can say.

All those tender words of comfort, all the kind lies humans tell, are beyond him in the simplest of matters;  for Sapphire, it's beyond comprehension. Instead, he sits there, opening their bond like a floodgate.  

 

 


	3. skin

 

Someone inquires if the room is occupied. Steel begins to object, but Sapphire stops him. We should report.

It can wait.

I'd rather get it over with.

They leave the incarnatorium together, heading to the main quarters. Halfway there, they were joined by Argon. Ah, Sapphire. Steel On a mission?

Just returned.

Argon glances at Sapphire, then back at Steel. Then why is she still wearing that?

 Neither of them understood at first. Sapphire tugs at her dress, trying to see if a thread had snagged or a seam ridden up.  

"I know you're fond of them, Sapphire, but honestly," Argon says aloud. 

Oh.

She's still guised. 

Steel steps between Argon and Sapphire. "And what business is that of yours?" he retorts.

I'm just saying, some of us have standards. Argon brushes past them.

* * *

That arrogant, hot-headed--

Steel, it doesn't matter. Argon had a point. I should--

Are you sure that's a good idea?  None of us have been subject to the deGrey effect before; there's no telling what it might--

Then we should find out before reporting. Sapphire doesn't give Steel a chance to object.  Her form blurs, smudging at the edges. The human shape disappears.

 _Steel._   The wounds reappear, burning with new pain. Mrs. P's scars, merely physical, leave only faint tingling, tenderness at the edges. But the others--the ones inflicted on the Beast...

There are rules. As in everything, every dimension, every parallel, there are rules. Not human inventions like geometry, local customs like gravity, or biological necessities like genetics. But rules, binding and absolute. 

Transients can't destroy Elements. Not without disrupting the universal balance. Not without opening a void for Time to walk freely.  

It's why they'd been trapped in the cafe so long ago,; removing the jokers from play without destroying the deck.

But the Transients had gotten clever. By luring in humans, giving them the semblance of control, they could keep their own hands clean.  The deGray effect added another layer of removal, a chance to destroy a shadow while corrupting reality.

The caretakers had been human, with all the petty cruelties and kindnesses of their kind. But always, always, Matron had been there, encouraging them, spurring them on, showing them her weaknesses.  

There's a reason they incarnate on missions; wounds can be discarded with the form, stains that only clung to clothing.  

Not this time.

She can only make sense of it by analogy, taking stock of each ache and pain and mapping them onto her human form.  Broken ribs, bruised larynx,  burned fingers. She does what she can to accelerate the healing process, but it takes so much power, inversely proportioned to benefit.

"Steel," she whispers. "I'm so tired."

He flinches.   

"Not like that," she reassures him. "Like when you go sub-zero, that's all.  I just need to rest."

Not here. I'll take you back to your room. Steel sets both hands on her shoulders, transporting them both to Sapphire's quarters.

"Thank you," Sapphire kisses his cheek. "I'll be fine, I promise."

He should leave. They still have to report. But...

"I'll be fine." 

Her words say one thing, but echoes of the kythe remain open. And they say something quite different.

> Don't leave me.

She'll be fine, yes, but that's not the same as being fine now.  What she wants, more than anything, more than she'd ever thought she could want, is to feel safe. 

And for that, she needs Steel.

> I'm not going anywhere.

 


	4. partners

Yes, he knows what she means.  It had happened before, of course, even on one of their earliest assignments together.  In the Jardin house, when he'd desubliminated to save Sapphire from the painted soldiers. He remembers sitting by the fire, unable to move, barely able to blink.  Sapphire's hands on his shoulders as he sat by the fire, worrying that he might freeze her too, leaving the disruption unmonitored.  And Lead, coming into the kitchen, towering over him, teasing him, but a relief all the same.

Was that what Sapphire had felt when he found her? 

Someone's at the door. Ah. Ruby.  

Sapphire, are you there? I just wanted--

Come in, Steel answers.

Ruby enters the room. Sapphire, thank you---oh--Ruby pauses, looking down at her colleague. How is she, Steel?

She'll recover. But what they did to her--to the Beast--

She told you everything?

Steel is grateful for the ambiguity in her words. "Told," in this context, refers to the factual narrative, with no distinction as to the means of communication. It could be anything from written accounts to audible discussion or psychometric bonds. His kythical bond with Sapphire isn't common knowledge; he suspects some would disapprove of such an intense connection.  "I know what happened."

I didn't really know what was happening. She held out longer than I did.  They built it for her; I was merely an afterthought.

"I know," Steel glances at her for a moment.  Her native form is  worn and pale, but unremarkable next to Sapphire's extensive injuries.  This is because of you.

I didn't--

I know. But I can't talk to you right now. Later, perhaps.

But--

Later.

Ruby turns to go. "Thank you anyway."

For what?

"You did save us, in the end."

Steel shakes his head. "Not in time."

 


	5. promises

Sapphire recovers so quietly that Steel didn't notice at first. She remains still a moment, contextualizing information. 

Sapphire? Steel sends tentatively.

I remember what you said to me--to her--the deGrey shadow.

> "There was someone. We worked well together. Sapphire; her name was Sapphire. I'm finding it difficult... working alone... I've never done it before. There's always been someone else to... she and I complimented each other perfectly. She had skills that I found useful and I..."

The memory is from his point of view, not hers. Kything was never unilateral, but with the weight of Sapphire's memories, he'd paid no heed to his own sendings. And that was what she fixed on?

Coming from you, Steel, that's practically a sonnet.

"Part of the job. I was trying to get through to her. I would have said anything."

I know you, Steel.  You're not given to sentiment or sugarcoating. You said that because you believed it.

So?

You trust you. Always will. After everything we've been through....you don't have to be human to care, Steel.  Sapphire looked away.  Not all of them, do, in the end.  

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the term "kythe" from Madeline L'Engle's Kairos books. It's used for intense communication, neither empathy or telepathy, but on a deeper, spiritual level.


End file.
